ThomTom
Race Dog
J&B and Coke! .. for a Scotsman? sies man
For the rest, I like a lot!
For the rest, I like a lot!
Two Scotsmen and le Mirage in le Desert Tour
- Thread starter MaxThePanda
- Start date
MaxThePanda
Race Dog
ThomTom said:
Ah... patience, patience! You see... we aren't the Scotsmen.
[but yes, point taken, rather poor quality whiskey. Standards must be slipping.]
MaxThePanda
Race Dog
White Rhino said:
Sure - will need to get it off the GPS. Please remind me...
MaxThePanda
Race Dog
Sprocketbek said:
My friend Fotini would love you. All things botanical. So - basically what we're saying is vicious little f*ckers of the plant world. I might have paid more attention if I knew they were that interesting.
MaxThePanda
Race Dog
So... Day 3 dawned hot. Like there was anything else Day 3 could have dawned? Actually, I'm exaggerating cause the trip wasn't nearly as hot as we were expecting and much cooler than I've previously had in these parts.
Our plan was to more or less carry on with yesterday's half plan, and that included the Richtersveld park, so we saddled up and headed off. Well, not before this little ******* and his friends had stolen the remains of our food...
And we certainly weren't going to leave anywhere before the obligatory chip breakfast.
What is it about bike trips, god bless them, that you're happy eating meals sitting amongst the dirt and weeds leaning against some ugly shop hovel in the middle of nowhere? Maybe that's what I like most about them...
Anyway, back to the main road leading to the park entrance for Richtersveld park proper, and about 20k shy of the gate I see a track leading off to the left, so why the hell not?
It's just absurdly plain lovely, and this is what we go biking for.
See those lumps in the background? The GPS was showing a ring of hills backing onto the park, and we thought that if we could somehow find a goat track through the mountains we could (a) feel heroic, (b) have some fantastic biking, and (c) allay our growing fears that they weren't going to let us into the park on the bikes.
For some reason I thought that bikes were allowed into the park, but this little voice in the back of my head was saying it might not be true, and that if we could cross into the park through the mountains and magically appear and apologize profusely all would be well and we would have had a magnificent adventure. So on we went.
And on...
But sadly we eventually conceded we weren't in fact goats and further adventures were going to end in tears of a mechanical kind. Since it was early in the trip discretion trumped valour and we tracked back to the main road.
Suspicions confirmed, hooligans on 250s (* and probably a few haai speed kwads) have apparently ruined another wilderness area for bike access, and we were told in no uncertain terms we weren't going anywhere near their precious park.
So... to Sendlingsdrift and hello land of the Namib.
Safety first, y'hear!
Our plan was to more or less carry on with yesterday's half plan, and that included the Richtersveld park, so we saddled up and headed off. Well, not before this little ******* and his friends had stolen the remains of our food...
And we certainly weren't going to leave anywhere before the obligatory chip breakfast.
What is it about bike trips, god bless them, that you're happy eating meals sitting amongst the dirt and weeds leaning against some ugly shop hovel in the middle of nowhere? Maybe that's what I like most about them...
Anyway, back to the main road leading to the park entrance for Richtersveld park proper, and about 20k shy of the gate I see a track leading off to the left, so why the hell not?
It's just absurdly plain lovely, and this is what we go biking for.
See those lumps in the background? The GPS was showing a ring of hills backing onto the park, and we thought that if we could somehow find a goat track through the mountains we could (a) feel heroic, (b) have some fantastic biking, and (c) allay our growing fears that they weren't going to let us into the park on the bikes.
For some reason I thought that bikes were allowed into the park, but this little voice in the back of my head was saying it might not be true, and that if we could cross into the park through the mountains and magically appear and apologize profusely all would be well and we would have had a magnificent adventure. So on we went.
And on...
But sadly we eventually conceded we weren't in fact goats and further adventures were going to end in tears of a mechanical kind. Since it was early in the trip discretion trumped valour and we tracked back to the main road.
Suspicions confirmed, hooligans on 250s (* and probably a few haai speed kwads) have apparently ruined another wilderness area for bike access, and we were told in no uncertain terms we weren't going anywhere near their precious park.
So... to Sendlingsdrift and hello land of the Namib.
Safety first, y'hear!
MaxThePanda
Race Dog
If you hook a right and head off down the river road you ride for an hour or two along the side of the Orange. Last time we were here, after traveling up the west coast on the sand tracks through Groenrivier and all those other glorious places, it was hot as Hades. You could jump in the river and after 10 minutes on the bike you'd be bone dry.
Today was still hot, but much more manageable... still an easy excuse to stop and hang for lunch on the banks of the beautiful water.
I mean c'mon - how lucky are we???
Here's my bro after I pinched the keys to the little orange wasp getting caught out by the lofty perch and added weight of my little piggie. Hahaha.
My dad had told us about a route up the canyon river bed to Ai-Ais, which we dutifully took. Not sure how it will be for the bikes, he said.. you may find the going a little rough depending on the condition of the track.
Haaaaaahahahahahaha. What he definitely didn't say was that he hooked us into a little piece of dual sport nirvana, but 4x4 drivers don't know everything, do they??
This little chap was on his way between somewhere and nowhere, and I'd never actually seen a live scorp so was quite chuffed.
OK, this next section should carry some kind of biking behavior advisory warning. So we don't behave like hooligans on fragile ecosystems, but the lure of an empty river bed was just too much to avoid a misdemeanor. Not going to mess with the pictures.
I discovered later from Mike that there were some suspicious fat tracks swerving in alarming fashion all over the river bed... I wonder what those could have been?
Today was still hot, but much more manageable... still an easy excuse to stop and hang for lunch on the banks of the beautiful water.
I mean c'mon - how lucky are we???
Here's my bro after I pinched the keys to the little orange wasp getting caught out by the lofty perch and added weight of my little piggie. Hahaha.
My dad had told us about a route up the canyon river bed to Ai-Ais, which we dutifully took. Not sure how it will be for the bikes, he said.. you may find the going a little rough depending on the condition of the track.
Haaaaaahahahahahaha. What he definitely didn't say was that he hooked us into a little piece of dual sport nirvana, but 4x4 drivers don't know everything, do they??
This little chap was on his way between somewhere and nowhere, and I'd never actually seen a live scorp so was quite chuffed.
OK, this next section should carry some kind of biking behavior advisory warning. So we don't behave like hooligans on fragile ecosystems, but the lure of an empty river bed was just too much to avoid a misdemeanor. Not going to mess with the pictures.
I discovered later from Mike that there were some suspicious fat tracks swerving in alarming fashion all over the river bed... I wonder what those could have been?
Piston Pete
Teach Peace
Amazing trip... :drif: :thumleft:
White Rhino
Race Dog
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Farking mouthwatering :biggrin:
MaxThePanda
Race Dog
OK, so where was I?
I think here somewhere. Cruising into the setting sun towards Ai-Ais. Long open road, hitting 150 with the bike squirming slightly side to side, Cafe del Mar on the headphones, a feint trail of dust in the mirrors in the setting sun, and god's most beautiful country stretching out as far as the eye can see.
If I die here...
Let's be honest, the Ai-Ais municipal lodge is overpriced, poorly maintained and empty (well at least at this time of the year). Where are the hordes of Swedish volleyball teams on training vacations? At least there's a first taste of Namibia:
And all the space in the world:
So we're sitting filthy at the bar gulping down the entire stock of aforementioned Tafel when in rock these two fellas.
"You look like bikers" they say. Or something to that effect. They didn't, cause they were cleanly turned out, but the GS shirts gave them away. Turns out Ken and Iain are Scottish "All you need is an oilman and an unlimited budget" owners of a global drilling outfit... irreverent, badly behaved, arrogant in a disarmingly charming manner and massively entertaining in their own special way. Ken has a house in Cape Town (amongst other places) and had just bought a new 1200 to leave there. Iain has rented an Adventure cause that's what he rides at home. Both are on road tyres (WTF, BMW??), and they're doing their annual boy's-own-adventure-road-trip tour around Namibia. Morocco was last year. Nothing in half measures. Respect.
Oh, the tracks in the canyon were theirs.
They'd each binned the bikes a few times. "You didn't know GS stands for Geen Sand, did you?" I ask. Despite not understanding a work of Afrikaans they got it. Short legs, big bikes, smooth tires, rough roads. A beautiful recipe.
We got a bit drunk together, wished them well in the morning and thought that was the last we'd see of them.
I think here somewhere. Cruising into the setting sun towards Ai-Ais. Long open road, hitting 150 with the bike squirming slightly side to side, Cafe del Mar on the headphones, a feint trail of dust in the mirrors in the setting sun, and god's most beautiful country stretching out as far as the eye can see.
If I die here...
Let's be honest, the Ai-Ais municipal lodge is overpriced, poorly maintained and empty (well at least at this time of the year). Where are the hordes of Swedish volleyball teams on training vacations? At least there's a first taste of Namibia:
And all the space in the world:
So we're sitting filthy at the bar gulping down the entire stock of aforementioned Tafel when in rock these two fellas.
"You look like bikers" they say. Or something to that effect. They didn't, cause they were cleanly turned out, but the GS shirts gave them away. Turns out Ken and Iain are Scottish "All you need is an oilman and an unlimited budget" owners of a global drilling outfit... irreverent, badly behaved, arrogant in a disarmingly charming manner and massively entertaining in their own special way. Ken has a house in Cape Town (amongst other places) and had just bought a new 1200 to leave there. Iain has rented an Adventure cause that's what he rides at home. Both are on road tyres (WTF, BMW??), and they're doing their annual boy's-own-adventure-road-trip tour around Namibia. Morocco was last year. Nothing in half measures. Respect.
Oh, the tracks in the canyon were theirs.
They'd each binned the bikes a few times. "You didn't know GS stands for Geen Sand, did you?" I ask. Despite not understanding a work of Afrikaans they got it. Short legs, big bikes, smooth tires, rough roads. A beautiful recipe.
We got a bit drunk together, wished them well in the morning and thought that was the last we'd see of them.
MaxThePanda
Race Dog
I think I mentioned that we didn't have a plan. The brother hasn't been to Verneuk Pan, so the rough thought was to head East, circle round and spend our last night on the pan engaging in ritual sacrifice of a small goat or something.
But a few minutes staring at a map and scratching around on the GPS and remembering that we haven't been to Sossusvlei since I was 17 and he was like 12 resolve that problem.
Next stop Namib.
We decided to head up the middle of the country on the sketchiest small roads we could find, and then to save the route skirting the east side of the desert for the return trip. The scenery changes quickly, becoming this arid, rocky half desert scrub landscape. A bit nondescript, lots of small hills and valleys but still gorgeous. And just plain, enormously empty.
It was a bit cold, and we picked up a polish bearded lady who was hitching in the middle of nowhere.
The local cannibalist tribesmen had left warning signs to scare away intruders.
...but I'm sorry, if you live in a land that is this beautiful, how are outsiders supposed to resist invading to do a bit of light shooting?
One of the best parts of this trip is that because there are only 2 million people living in a country the size of Russia there are plenty of places to just pull off the road and camp wherever you want.
And dinner cooked on an open fire in the middle of nowhere just tastes better.
But a few minutes staring at a map and scratching around on the GPS and remembering that we haven't been to Sossusvlei since I was 17 and he was like 12 resolve that problem.
Next stop Namib.
We decided to head up the middle of the country on the sketchiest small roads we could find, and then to save the route skirting the east side of the desert for the return trip. The scenery changes quickly, becoming this arid, rocky half desert scrub landscape. A bit nondescript, lots of small hills and valleys but still gorgeous. And just plain, enormously empty.
It was a bit cold, and we picked up a polish bearded lady who was hitching in the middle of nowhere.
The local cannibalist tribesmen had left warning signs to scare away intruders.
...but I'm sorry, if you live in a land that is this beautiful, how are outsiders supposed to resist invading to do a bit of light shooting?
One of the best parts of this trip is that because there are only 2 million people living in a country the size of Russia there are plenty of places to just pull off the road and camp wherever you want.
And dinner cooked on an open fire in the middle of nowhere just tastes better.
MaxThePanda
Race Dog
Next day lots of nature to marvel at. Huge weaver nests:
Kudu that can scale fences from standing starts:
Pretty chickens.
Oh wait. That was at this lovely little German restaurant in the middle of f*cking nowhere at Helmeringhausen. I defy you to look THAT up on a map. A proper menu, cute-as-a-button waitress and fresh coffee??!? God bless the Germans.
So, we're sitting there quietly enjoying our breakfast when I'm like, "doesn't that sound awfully like a 1200?"
Sure as eggs, in pulls Iain. Remember him? We'd left them two days ago in Ai-Ais and they'd been supposed to be in Sossusvlei the previous day. Turns out they'd overestimated the 1200's distance-eating ability in Scottish hands and had pulled in for a night at Helmesomething. Good decision. Only problem was, the dirt had gotten the better of the Adventure half an hour out of "town" and smartly deposited Iain in the grit alongside the bike, or squashed by the bike, or something like that and he was more than a little the worse for wear.
He's not assuming that pose cause he's a difficult, obnoxious sod - although a very charming one, did I mention that? - but because his collarbone was broken in several places. Let's just say he was in very poor condition when he walked into the tea garden and could even open a bottle of water let alone pick up an Adventure. No idea how he rode back there. The Scotts are well 'ard. We discovered later from Ken he was all for carrying on with a piece of string tied around the clutch lever so he could change gear with his teeth.
Needless to say he'd taken "don't be gentle with the rental" to heart. Good man.
Such is the warmth of the Scottish heart (although we discovered later that it was at least partly a ploy by Ken to force Iain's hand so that he couldn't possibly insist on trying to carry on to Sossusvlei) that umpteen international telephone calls resulted in two filthy, disheveled and generally disreputable Saffer boys being booked in to spend a night in the super fancy le Mirage in the Desert hotel on the border of Sossusvlei, that had been booked and paid for by the Scottsmen. Have we mentioned how much we love the Scotts? Kings amongst men.
Kudu that can scale fences from standing starts:
Pretty chickens.
Oh wait. That was at this lovely little German restaurant in the middle of f*cking nowhere at Helmeringhausen. I defy you to look THAT up on a map. A proper menu, cute-as-a-button waitress and fresh coffee??!? God bless the Germans.
So, we're sitting there quietly enjoying our breakfast when I'm like, "doesn't that sound awfully like a 1200?"
Sure as eggs, in pulls Iain. Remember him? We'd left them two days ago in Ai-Ais and they'd been supposed to be in Sossusvlei the previous day. Turns out they'd overestimated the 1200's distance-eating ability in Scottish hands and had pulled in for a night at Helmesomething. Good decision. Only problem was, the dirt had gotten the better of the Adventure half an hour out of "town" and smartly deposited Iain in the grit alongside the bike, or squashed by the bike, or something like that and he was more than a little the worse for wear.
He's not assuming that pose cause he's a difficult, obnoxious sod
- although a very charming one, did I mention that? - but because his collarbone was broken in several places. Let's just say he was in very poor condition when he walked into the tea garden and could even open a bottle of water let alone pick up an Adventure. No idea how he rode back there. The Scotts are well 'ard. We discovered later from Ken he was all for carrying on with a piece of string tied around the clutch lever so he could change gear with his teeth.
Needless to say he'd taken "don't be gentle with the rental" to heart. Good man.
Such is the warmth of the Scottish heart (although we discovered later that it was at least partly a ploy by Ken to force Iain's hand so that he couldn't possibly insist on trying to carry on to Sossusvlei) that umpteen international telephone calls resulted in two filthy, disheveled and generally disreputable Saffer boys being booked in to spend a night in the super fancy le Mirage in the Desert hotel on the border of Sossusvlei, that had been booked and paid for by the Scottsmen. Have we mentioned how much we love the Scotts? Kings amongst men.
Max the pic of the two Scotsmen were not taken at Ais-Ais was it?
More like Betanien it looked.
More like Betanien it looked.
MaxThePanda
Race Dog
chrisL said:
Haha. Nope - that was from Helmeringhausen when we bumped into them again after Iain had his smash.
Crossed-up
Pangaman
I'm enjoying this report enormously! Look forward to the next installment.
MaxThePanda
Race Dog
So on we went. More open skies, and isn't this just the best seat in town?
Strange road signs, but we love them.
Even a bit of water.
I came around that corner waaaaaaayyyy too fast, wasn't concentrating, hit the water at about 80 and almost got knocked right off the bike by the force of the spray. More caution from the Younger.
Some ****:
And the final canyon view before the road flattened out, on the run in to Sossusvlei.
Strange road signs, but we love them.
Even a bit of water.
I came around that corner waaaaaaayyyy too fast, wasn't concentrating, hit the water at about 80 and almost got knocked right off the bike by the force of the spray. More caution from the Younger.
Some ****:
And the final canyon view before the road flattened out, on the run in to Sossusvlei.
What tar in mainstreet Helmering?MaxThePanda said:
What is the world comeing to!!?
MaxThePanda
Race Dog
Crossed-up said:
Thanks Crossed-up
... I think the person who enjoys it the most is probably the writer... you get to relive the journey all over again.
MaxThePanda
Race Dog
It's not every day you get a special omen on a journey. Or perhaps, if Paulo Coelho is to be believed they are all around us. Whatever! I'm claiming my rabbit.
Sad, pretty little rabbit. And no, I didn't run him over, but he gave up his life for freedom and the sheer joy of road crossing. May we all be inspired to get from one side of the road to the other.
This report is probably getting more flowery and full of nonsense in direct proportion to the way we were relaxing and getting into the spirit of travel and the joy of the journey. I hadn't realized until about now how grumpy, stressed and wound-up I'd been back in city life. I love the rhythm of travel, of moving from place to place. I've travelled large chunks of Africa by bicycle too, and the feeling of moving and watching the world go by with each peddle stroke or each change of gear just brings a sense of wellbeing and release. Plain and simple. I feel better for it.
About them time of the rabbit the landscape all of a sudden changed.
Gone were the scrub bush and tight little hills and valleys, and here was the wide open vistas and the gorgeous velvet grass. Apparently Namibia gets 16mm rain annually, or something like that, and this February they had 290mm in one go, so the entire countryside is still in shock. A beautiful soft yellow carpet of shock. Apparently if you came here some other time you wouldn't recognize it.
Lovely as they are, these pictures just don't do it justice. But then we always say that, don't we?
Sad, pretty little rabbit. And no, I didn't run him over, but he gave up his life for freedom and the sheer joy of road crossing. May we all be inspired to get from one side of the road to the other.
This report is probably getting more flowery and full of nonsense in direct proportion to the way we were relaxing and getting into the spirit of travel and the joy of the journey. I hadn't realized until about now how grumpy, stressed and wound-up I'd been back in city life. I love the rhythm of travel, of moving from place to place. I've travelled large chunks of Africa by bicycle too, and the feeling of moving and watching the world go by with each peddle stroke or each change of gear just brings a sense of wellbeing and release. Plain and simple. I feel better for it.
About them time of the rabbit the landscape all of a sudden changed.
Gone were the scrub bush and tight little hills and valleys, and here was the wide open vistas and the gorgeous velvet grass. Apparently Namibia gets 16mm rain annually, or something like that, and this February they had 290mm in one go, so the entire countryside is still in shock. A beautiful soft yellow carpet of shock. Apparently if you came here some other time you wouldn't recognize it.
Lovely as they are, these pictures just don't do it justice. But then we always say that, don't we?
Great stuff so far! Beautiful piccies and I like the terse, tongue in cheek narrative. :thumleft:
